


Shinjûmono [心中物]

by Sapphylicious



Category: KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphylicious/pseuds/Sapphylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Times change, and people change with them. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shinjûmono are stories (traditionally plays in kabuki or puppet theatre) that focus on double suicide between lovers.

"Kamenashi, what do you think?"

He flips a page, eyes skimming methodically over the script while his head is slightly tilted in thought, and he wonders: _Am I really suited for this kind of role?_ He banishes the thought almost immediately. It doesn't matter whether or not he's suited for the character role because it's his, regardless, and he'll make ends meet somehow. Kamenashi Kazuya will be whatever he is required to be.

"Kamenashi?"

"It's very romantic," he replies in a languid, considering tone, speaking only the truth. The drama is about a pair of lovers who committed suicide together, and their reincarnations meet again in the modern world. However, while following their current lives it is revealed that their situations and even personalities are nothing like their past selves, and there will be a number of extended flashbacks throughout the series that flesh out the previous incarnations. The main leads will need to portray both their past and present characters, and somehow convey the fact that these vastly different personalities are still the same soul.

"The role sounds like a challenging one," Kame continues, thumbing through more pages without actually paying much attention to the content. _Tokyo Shinju_ is a love story, and love stories are nothing new. He's been born, fallen in love, and died on screen numerous times. He's lived numerous lives. _Two at once should be easy, then. Nothing to worry about,_ he thinks, tucking the packet under his arm and presenting a smile, charming and boyish all at once.

"I'm looking forward to it."

#

Of course KAT-TUN is doing the theme song, and there's talk of making two versions of the promotional video – one with the boys and one with scenes from the drama. All of the hype is making Kame nervous, not that he would admit it. The ratings for his dramas have been rising at last after the gut-wrenching period when they plummeted, and he's clearly back in favor again. He's determined not to be anything less than perfect this time.

Kame checks his watch as the meeting comes to an end, out of habit more than need or curiosity. He glances up at the other members, who are yawning and stretching and complaining about how boring these things are.

"I could be sleeping right now," Koki laments, sprawling back in his chair with his arms dangling. To Koki's right, Jin sits with his arms crossed and his chin tucked down, looking like he really did fall asleep.

"Or eating. It's lunchtime," Nakamaru points out. "Anyone want to go grab something?"

"Your treat?" Ueda asks slyly, and everyone perks up at the idea of a free meal; Taguchi's face brightens and even Jin cracks an eye open in interest.

"Hell, no." Nakamaru is immediately met with a chorus of boo's and accusations of being a cheapskate, but as far as arguments go, this one doesn't last long. "You all pay for yourselves!"

"Kame?" Someone gives Kame's shoulder a light punch – probably Koki, judging by the closeness of his voice.

"Can't," he says, glancing down at his planner, though he already knows his schedule for the day down to the last minute. "I have another meeting."

The decline surprises no one, not during this time of the year. Still, Nakamaru offers, "We're recording the song later, you want me to bring you something then?"

Kame allows a small grin. "I can feed myself, you know." He doesn't look up to see if anyone is wearing a skeptical expression. It doesn't matter because no one argues, and he feels some relief once the others finally leave. He pulls a folded sheet of paper out – the lyrics to the theme song, which he hasn't gotten a chance to really look at yet.

There is a single solo line at the very end of the song once the chorus is supposed to trail off: _"may you and I be reborn on the same lotus."_ Kame gets that line, naturally, and almost without knowing his lips move to recite it aloud. 

He jumps in his seat when he hears a voice comment, "You like that part?"

Kame turns around. Jin hasn't moved; arms still crossed, slouching in his chair, and his eyes are closed again. Despite the question, he appears unconcerned with the answer.

"It's fitting," Kame replies, adopting a bland tone to match Jin's indifference.

"Of course it's fitting, it's for a drama about love suicide," Jin points out with a hint of disgust – and Kame doesn't know how he can sound personally offended and look completely apathetic at the same time, but he supposes that's Jin for you.

Then Kame skims over the sheet again and his gaze catches on the name of the lyricist, written in English. A thought occurs to him and for a second, his mind goes blank. With trepidation, as if expecting not only to be wrong, but to get burned for it, he asks, "Jin, did you write this?"

"Yeah."

"Under a penname?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." It feels like one of those horrible moments when he's put on the spot and can't handle himself gracefully to save his life. They're few and far between these days, but that only makes them more humiliating. "I really like it—"

"Bullshit, you just said it was 'fitting'." Jin raises his voice loftily at the end and all pretense of apathy is gone.

Kame finds himself smiling a little at Jin's childish disgruntlement. Some things never change. "It is, and that's why I like it. The theme is very moving and the words convey that perfectly. _Timeless_ is a great song for the drama. Thank you." He's not sure why he's thanking Jin – it's a business arrangement, nothing more. That much is apparent in the use of a penname so that they won't be linked together. It's unusual of Jin, actually, who has never bothered to hide behind a different name before (has never wanted to, and is probably incapable of being something he isn't), and Kame wonders with some disquiet about the uncharacteristic decision. Perhaps he could be over-thinking things. They're friends, but Kame figures that they're grown friends; grown up and apart. The common tragedy of adulthood.

In the meantime, Jin is still looking at him, not quite convinced, so Kame arches his brows with significance and adds, "I was shocked at first. After all, there aren't any dirty English lyrics."

"Those were only a couple songs!" Jin protests with a burst of indignation. "And they weren't crude or anything."

" _LOVEJUICE_?"

"It was _poetic_ , you have no idea."

"You're disgusting, Akanishi." Kame shakes his head, but laughs while he says it to take the edge off, and he's surprised by how happy and young his laughter sounds in his own ears.

Jin looks torn between a grin and a pout, but doesn't get a chance to reply before Kame gets up and collects his belongings. There's still some time to spare, but suddenly he wants to get moving. He can always put that time to better use. When he's about ready to leave, Jin has returned to looking bored. They're both like this, shifting moods easily, trying to shift around each other. Sometimes they're volatile, sometimes they're cold, and sometimes they're just awkward. Kame isn't sure if they've gotten better with age and experience, or just accustomed.

"I'll be sure to sing the song really well," Kame says in lame parting. It's difficult to be earnest when Jin doesn't appear to be paying attention.

"Of course," is all Jin says in response, and it isn't an arrogant rejoinder at all. He sounds expectant, but unenthused.

There is a brief moment when Kame considers asking Jin if he remembers something, a silly make-believe game from years ago. That's another reason why Kame likes the song, because it evokes a hazy childhood memory, the nostalgic past, but maybe only to him.

Kame lifts a hand to wave goodbye and turns his back. Jin wouldn't remember something like that. Kame can barely remember it himself.

#

The stars look different in the countryside than they do in the city. They're brighter, billions of them, like someone unrolled a map of constellations to cover the length and breadth of clear sky. Jin and Kame lie on their backs, lazily pointing out ones they recognize and some that they make up, arguing halfheartedly over ambiguous shapes and the stories that go along with them. They're young and dreaming of being stars themselves one day, with their own legends, so that other people will also point and marvel.

" _Ah,_ " Kame catches his breath as a streak of moving light draws his eye before disappearing from view.

"What is it?" Jin asks in a sleepy-sounding drawl.

"...Nothing," he mumbles, disappointed that Jin didn't see the shooting star, and kind of annoyed, too. Should he make a wish anyway?

"Hey," Jin says, interrupting Kame's internal wish-making. "We should do this again some time."

"Sure," Kame readily agrees, embarrassingly pleased with the idea, already calculating when they might have another vacation.

"In a year," Jin figures confidently. "Or five years. Do you think we'll be famous in five years? Maybe it should be ten."

_Ten years is a long time_ , Kame thinks. "It might as well be fifty," he sighs, exhaling his disappointment. Jin only laughs.

"Fifty? We'll be _old_ by then! I don't want that!"

Truthfully, Kame can't even imagine it – them being old. He can hardly see beyond the endless hours, days, and weeks of training. Dance practice, singing lessons, and baseball when he has time for it. He doesn't have much time for it anymore. Kame doesn't even think before he finds himself saying, "Then how about this. In five _hundred_ years—" Jin can barely hold in his laughter. "Listen! In five hundred years, we can be born again. You and me. We'll meet each other and see the stars again."

"In the next life, huh..."

Jin trails off and a dead silence settles over them. Kame scrambles to say something or make a joke, but the words get stuck in his throat. He hadn't meant much by throwing out that silly idea, but he wishes, suddenly and fervently and perhaps stupidly, to meet Jin again in his next life.

"Okay!" Jin confirms, startlingly loud in the indolent atmosphere, and Kame turns his wide-eyed gaze on him. The grass rustles as Jin sits up and leans over Kame, features vague in the darkness but his grin still wide. "Five hundred years it is. It'll be fun."

Kame is still staring, blanketed in Jin's shadow. He can see Jin's form outlined by stars while the moon hangs round and pale over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Kame agrees faintly, wondering how much different the world will look by then.

* * * * *

"Jin? _Hellooo_ , are you listening?"

Jin readjusts his grip on the phone, angling it more firmly against his ear. "Sorry, Pi," he says, propping both elbows on the railing of the balcony. A breeze whips through the night air, carrying away the trail of smoke from his cigarette. "Long day at work, you know."

"Go to sleep then," Yamapi replies casually, knowing full well that the suggestion won't be considered. They'll keep talking like this, lazy and rambling and pointless, laughing over shared jokes and complaining over shared grievances. Tomorrow's schedule might as well not exist. "And get your ass back indoors, I can barely hear you over the wind. Plus, you're going to catch a cold and be totally miserable, and then you'll bend my ear with your whining."

"It isn't that cold," Jin retorts. Summer is fading, but the briskness of autumn hasn't sharpened yet. He looks out across the sprawling cityscape, all lit up and bright; alive. Tilting his head back, he takes in the sky. The stars look tiny and dim compared to the sea of lights spread out below. 

"Hey, Pi."

"Now what?" Judging by the exasperated sigh, Jin figures he interrupted him. Yamapi's tone accuses and forgives in practically the same instant.

"What would you want to do in your next life?" Jin asks straightforwardly, no explanation. With some people, it's not needed. Simplicity is underrated.

"That sounds like one of those retarded questions we're asked on interviews. 'If you weren't disgustingly rich and famous nationwide, would what you want to be?'" Yamapi mimics in a false, pitched tone. 

Jin's lips quirk. "Pretty stupid, yeah." He takes one more drag of his cigarette before putting it out and flicking the ashen remains over the edge.

#

Sometimes – a lot of the time – Jin hates having so much history with Kame. Years drifting apart can change things, but never enough, and he's reminded whenever he looks at Kame these days. He's reminded because he notices what time can't change. Habits, nuances, little signs he recognizes fleetingly and reflectively that belong to an awkward boy, before they're obscured by the adult Jin barely knows (and doesn't particularly care to know, because Kame is the sort of adult that Jin can't stand).

They're filming Cartoon KAT-TUN today, and it's turning out to be a harrowing process. First there is a scheduling mishap somewhere along the line, which means everyone is rushed and mildly panicky and not sure exactly what's going on. Kame is actually late; he shows up without excuses or blame and shoulders the responsibility. He also bears the extra irritation, sharp and snappish. One look and they all dread putting up with him today.

Jin supposes he doesn't make things any better by complaining, "It's about time." But he's also unhurried as he uncurls his body and stretches, back arching before relaxing into a comfortable slouch while he walks towards the set.

It's sort of funny to nag at _Kame_ of all people, and sort of terrible – not just because it's an asshole thing to do. Predictably, Kame goes tight-lipped and handles himself off-camera with razor-edged efficiency, like he has something to prove. In his mind, he probably does. On-camera, he smiles the winning, super idol smile, and the staff breathe a sigh of relief, like everything will be okay so long as Kame has it together.

Kame has it together the way he always does when he's this busy. He sleeps less, eats less, and only seems to find _more_ work to do. It's so regular now, so expected, that nobody really pays attention.

Jin wishes he didn't notice, because all it seems to do is piss him off.

#

"Oh, for—" Jin stops in his tracks, patting down one pocket after another, coming up empty and hissing out between his teeth, " _Shit._ "

He's missing his cell phone. It's late and he's just completed his part for the PV, so he'd like nothing more than to go home and crash, but the stupid phone is new. He'd spent most of the day playing with it (i.e. creeping Nakamaru out by sending weird texts before revealing himself as the unknown number).

Jin backtracks into the building again, heading for the dressing room and hoping that he left it there and not in the studio. He picks up on the sound of a lowered voice as he nears the door and pushes it open – but too late does Jin recognize the rising tone.

Kame doesn't even turn; he barely seems to acknowledge Jin as he lets his words trail off, flipping a page of the slightly battered script in his hands. Perhaps he's in one of his moods and is giving Jin the cold shoulder. He was normal enough during the shooting, maybe demanding a few more retakes and being a tiny bit forced into group interaction for the making-of, but still normal enough. He smiled and put up with the teasing, cracking back as best he could (which wasn't very well – it never is when he's trying not to mean it). 

Then Kame comments without looking up: "I thought you were done."

Jin feels a flash of irritation and it shows on his face, which Kame can't see, but he must hear it in his tone. "Lost my phone. Seen it?" Jin casts about the room, cluttered with clothes and makeup and other things that are decidedly not his cell phone. 

"Nope," Kame replies distractedly. "Did you leave it on-set?"

"Fuck, I hope not." Jin scans the table, scowling, and rifles through the area where his stuff was. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kame study the script for another moment before lowering it and repeating his lines, changing the inflection. It's nothing unusual, but Jin's bothered by the process anyway. Maybe because of the way Kame has lost a noticeable amount of weight already when he didn't have much to spare to begin with.

Kame has no 'off' switch, or rather, he's unwilling to use it. Everything has to matter to him, _every little thing_ , including every person he has to impress. Not to say that it doesn't pay off, but perhaps it does so a little too well. He's Kamenashi Kazuya and he's dedicating his life to anybody and everybody who will have him. He's loved for that, considered near and dear, and yet he's untouchable. Kame doesn't require anyone's concern and habitually rebuffs anything approaching it. The members are constantly stating it as his weakness, and that's when he'll humbly apologize and make an effort to open up, awkwardly and sometimes drastically in rare breaking-point bursts. But successful or not, it's always the impressive effort that people respond to.

Jin, though, is characterized by his effortlessness. He is never easily ignored, which means he's very, very good at making Kame open up to him. However, it's been a long time since that was a positive thing.

He's not really thinking his actions through when he ambles over and steals the script right out of Kame's startled hands.

"Jin!"

"What? I thought I'd help." He goes back to the door, kicking it shut and leaning against it, trapping them both inside. "Oh, this looks like a good scene."

Even Kame's most withering glare has ceased to intimidate him. When they were little, that poisonous look instantly confounded Jin since he usually had no idea what provoked it in the first place. Then he learned to recognize it as a warning sign, and quickly after that it only ignited his temper. Things changed again after L.A. – a long time after, because for a period things were quietly uneasy – and it wasn't a matter of Jin ignoring it so much as paying more attention. If Jin wanted to. 

"This isn't a game. Give that back."

"I'll start with one of Harumi's lines, okay?"

" _Akanishi—_ " Another changing thing, the name, and for just a second Jin hesitates. But only just.

"Or you could start. But it's supposed to be 'Saito-san'."

Kame looks angry enough to spit, and Jin doesn't have a good reason to be antagonizing him except that bullying his way into Kame's business has always been second nature. The rest is up to Kame.

"Saito-san," he says at last, eyes dangerously narrow, but his tone cools to a polite – downright chilly – degree. He even smiles a little, stiff at the corners, and perfectly in-character. Kame is either the world's best actor right now, or the worst. "I am sorry that you came all this way, but you are wasting your time as well as mine."

Jin skims the screenplay, making a lazy attempt to get in-character. He doesn't know anything about Harumi except that she's the reincarnation of an 18th century courtesan. "But I thought... You said you remembered. You told me about the trouble with your family back then, and about yourself, Saburo—"

"Kobayashi," Kame corrects, cutting the other off with a curt gesture. He's averting his gaze, distracted or unwilling to look 'Harumi' in the eye. "My name is Kobayashi Minoru. Please remember it."

"The forest," Jin half-pleads and half-accuses because it seems appropriate. He takes a few steps forward. "And the tolling of the bell. You remember _that_ , don't you?"

Kame goes stock-still for just a moment, just enough to say Kobayashi does remember, and unhappily, but his shrug and reply are casually unaffected. "If you mean my death, then yes. It's not the sort of thing one looks back upon with warm feelings. A normal person would want to forget such a memory."

"But you didn't want to forget. You haven't forgotten, because we—"

"Oh, _honestly_ ," Kame goes tense and shoots Jin a sharp look. "This is beyond tiring. I accept that in my past life I was Saburo and that I was in love. I accept that I died for that love, hundreds of years ago. Times change – _people_ change. I am no longer that same man. I have this life now, a life that has been perfectly fine without you in it. I have no desire to chase after the past, and in fact I am rather busy here in the present. Saito-san, I wish you luck in your own pursuits, but leave me out of them. Goodbye."

Kame abruptly brushes by, just like that, as written in the script. Jin starts after him, also according to the scripted actions, but he deviates in calling out, "Kame!" instead of the character name. 

In-character or not, Kame ignores him.


	2. Act 2

A particularly loud command from the photographer makes Kame reflexively snap to attention, though the order isn't being directed at him. Koki's scowl deepens in front of the camera, but when he catches Kame's eye he rolls his gaze skyward in silent complaint: _can you believe this guy?_

Kame shakes his head, smiling. His solo shots are done and he has some time to kill before the paired ones. He shifts until he's curled up differently in his seat and returns his attention to the book tucked in his hands. It was lent to him by his _Tokyo Shinju_ co-star.

"This is a collection of Chikamatsu Monzaemon's plays," she said with a dimpling grin, pulling the book out of her kimono sleeve and presenting it to him when they were taking a break. "You said you were interested in reading them, and one of the scenes we're doing later is based off of _Sonezaki Shinju_. There's a kabuki performance of it next month, the first one in years. If you want, I could get you a ticket."

Kame had to decline though, not seeing when there would be time to go to a play while the drama is still being filmed and he has the rest of his schedule with KAT-TUN to consider. He regrets missing the opportunity, but maybe some other time.

"Hey," Ueda's voice floats from over his shoulder, and Kame raises his head. "It's just about our turn."

He makes an affirmative sound, closing the book and stretching out his frame, letting the stylists flit around him to fix his hair and smooth his clothes. Like any professional, he's hardly aware of their presence. "What time is it?" Kame asks, stifling a yawn.

"Ten-thirty," Nakamaru answers as he heads over with a little more bounce in his step than usual. "And _I_ am done for today." He seems quite pleased with his own rare fortune. Predictably, he is met with disdain from everyone else.

Kame poses with Ueda in front of the camera, rearranging his limbs when told, smiling, pouting, and flirting. He obeys the photographer on autopilot, while inwardly he estimates when he'll get home and how much more time he can spend lingering over the next episode's script. His lines are memorized, no problem, but it's the characterization and emotional undercurrents that he wants to study more. He also reminds himself to call his mother and tell her he can't make it to dinner on Tuesday because they're performing on Music Station. It's okay to stay up little late and still get up early for filming; he can sleep on the train to Kyoto where most of the flashback scenes are being shot at Toei Uzumasa Eigamura. 

There's a brief lull from the click of the camera when the stylists are called to touch up their faces and the lighting is adjusted. Kame closes his eyes as hands hover around him and he schools his features into pliant neutrality. He realizes he's tired when it's a struggle to open them again, but that's no surprise when he's this busy. He blinks away the lethargy. What startles him is the blank stare Jin is giving him from off-set, arms crossed and somehow defensive.

Kame tries not to let his exasperation show, and it's easy once the camera starts again. He concentrates on every pose, every tilt of his chin and drape of his arm. Jin has been making more of a nuisance of himself than usual lately, but he does that whenever he wants attention. Kame doesn't have time to indulge him, so he doesn't concern himself with Jin's whims. Besides, they always pass.

#

_"My lord, your offer is unimaginably generous," Ayame is saying as politely as possible, but anxiety tinges her words. Her fluttering fan creates a sound reminiscent of the wings of a trapped bird. The motion ceases as the lovely courtesan steels herself, and then boldly declares, "But I simply cannot accept."_

_"Ah, but the choice is not yours to make. I am merely informing you before I go to conclude the bargain."_

_She's indignant first and foremost, and plain angry besides. "You know that I am in love with someone else!"_

_"It matters little to me. After all, Saburo cannot afford your ransom."_

_"That changes nothing. I refuse." Ayame turns her back coldly and walks onto the outdoor deck._

_"Don't be so unreasonable—"_

_"Unreasonable?" she echoes, and plants her foot firmly on the step to the ground. The clack of her geta punctuate her words. "It's only the truth. I would rather die than be bought by you."_

_"You would choose death – with your lover, I imagine?" He sounds skeptical, even exasperated, like her behavior is more of a game than a threat. She's a flighty young girl, after all._

_Quietly hidden beneath the deck, Saburo hears the very real promise in her statement, and his breath catches as the colorful layers of Ayame's kimono descend into view._

_"I would do that," she says, and unseen by the man she is defying, Ayame stretches her bare foot out towards Saburo._

_He slides his fingers over a delicate ankle and does the only thing he can: he places her instep against his throat and draws it across, miming the actions of a blade. Emotion wavers in Ayame's voice from above._

_"I would choose death with him gladly."_

 

There is a moment of dizziness when Kame crawls out from his position under the deck and stands up. It passes quickly – too much time lying flat on the ground, that's all.

"Good work, Kamenashi," someone says, passing him a bottle of water.

"Thanks," he replies, his voice oddly raspy and dry despite not having any lines in that scene. The water feels good sliding down his throat, cooling the parched sensation and sharpening his focus. He shivers from a sudden chill while his co-star appears comfortable in what looks like a multi-layered costume, though in actuality the only layers are the strips of fabric that peek out at the hems. The design is identical to what courtesan characters use in kabuki theatre.

She catches his eye with a smile, speaking up, "That went well, don't you think?"

More than well, in his opinion, and Kame offers a grin in return. "I can't wait to see what it will look like." The famous scene borrowed from _Sonezaki Shinju_ is a highlight of the episode, adhering strongly to its traditional depiction on stage, yet adapted for film. Kame expects to be asked about it during interviews. As usual, he's been promoting the drama at every opportunity, without fail, and the ratings so far are more than satisfactory. He lets himself breathe a sigh of relief at the success, but can't afford time to enjoy it. He has to keep it up.

There are crowds of people – tourists happening to visit Eigamura and particularly dedicated or plain lucky fans – gathered on the outskirts of the set they're using. Kame can pick up on their excited chatter and the liberal mentions of his name. There are shouts and ecstatic shrieks when he turns to them and waves.

#

Thankfully, Kame isn't onstage or anywhere near a camera when it happens. He's just leaving the studio at the end of his radio show when the dizziness hits and his vision goes blurry. The thud of his hand catching himself on the wall sounds distant and he might be saying something, and then the world tilts and goes black.

He wakes up in a too bright, too sterile room, disoriented and sporting bruises and a throbbing headache. Things are only half-sorted out in his mind when he decides to sit up, throw off the covers, and swing his legs over the side of the bed. His vision immediately starts to swim and he winces, conceding that there were some flaws in that plan. He hears a soft snort from the other side of the bed and twists around.

Somehow it doesn't faze Kame to see Jin sitting there in one of those impossibly uncomfortable chairs that are only ever used in hospitals. He can't have been there long.

"You might want to take it easy," Jin counsels, amusement evident in his eyes and the quality of his smile. Condescending, but without a mocking edge. Teasing, then. "But if you want to faint again, this is the best place for it."

Kame frowns, trying to find the right reply that sounds firm without being prickly. "I'm fine," he begins, and looks away so he won't challenge Jin to disagree. He doesn't have time to fight, but he can feel it in himself like something just under his skin, waiting for release. Kame wills the tension away. He glances at the clock on the wall. "I have to go, I'm late—"

Jin reaches out to hold him by the shoulder, and the tension comes coiling back. Jin can feel it and sighs behind him. His thumb presses into the muscle at the base of Kame's neck, rubbing small circles. "You're not late. You're taking the weekend off."

"We're in the middle of filming an episode," Kame protests, but he can't bring himself to sound as adamant as he wishes when both of Jin's hands are massaging, warmth spreading through the thin layer of the hospital gown. The pressure hurts at first, making him tense even more, but something gives at last and Kame lets his head fall forward in defeat and gratification. It feels unbelievably good. He almost wants to fall back asleep, but the knowledge that he slept through the night already – for a whopping ten hours – keeps him aware. He wonders when he last got that much sleep and can't help but feel perturbed over the wasted hours.

"Stop that," Jin reprimands, and it's a slight shock to hear him so close. 

_Not so shocking,_ Kame's inner voice sneers. _Assuming his arms are still attached to his body, of course he's right there._ He can tell where the mattress dips under Jin's weight, too, but they're not close enough for Kame to feel anything else. Except for Jin's hands and fingers still kneading his flesh, strong and solid.

"You're thinking about work," Jin continues with accusation in his tone. "I can tell."

"Well, I _should_ be working." And there's the threat of fighting again, just needing to be pushed. Jin's hands stop and Kame bites his lip. He closes his eyes briefly. He lets it go as best he can. Turning his head slightly and softening his words, he asks, "Can I at least go home? I don't need to be here, really."

There's a pause, time enough for Jin to let out a breath of air. "Yeah. That's why— I was going to drive you, anyway." He squeezes Kame's shoulders, releases and backs away.

Like a delayed reaction, triggered by a suddenly unfamiliar atmosphere, Kame is rocked with the question: _why are you even here?_

#

Kame dozes throughout part of the drive home, but he spends the rest of the ride wondering what he's going to do with himself. He has a whole weekend off, but it's a time when he should be working and he's fully aware that this respite is useless. His schedule will be shifted and rearranged, made to compensate for the break. With some luck and a lot of efficiency, the filming won't fall too far behind – so Kame hopes, but he also acknowledges the possibility of pushing everything back a week. The ratings have been consistently high, so they wouldn't take too much of a beating if that happens, but as far as work goes it's not just a minor setback. And there's going to be the usual sort of repercussions; rumors and reputations being dragged to the forefront again.

_'Kamenashi is a difficult person to work with...' 'Kamenashi's health concerns...' 'Kamenashi's past record...'_

"Hey," Jin says, pulling into a space in the parking garage and turning the engine off. "We're here."

Kame can sense Jin's eyes on him as he unbuckles the seatbelt, but doesn't so much as glance Jin's way. He only pauses for a moment to say, "Thanks," before getting out. It wouldn't surprise him if this became a rumor as well, since the tabloids always did have a weird fixation on their relationship. Kame doesn't mind the spotlight, but he hates when things aren't under control. Jin and control don't even belong in the same sentence.

The sound of the other car door slamming startles him into looking up, eyes going wide, then narrow. "I'm fine on my own," he informs Jin, who walks over to Kame with that casually stubborn set to his shoulders. Kame doesn't budge. "What are you going to do, baby-sit me?" _I'm not a child anymore_ , he almost adds, but that kind of admission has no place between them. History they might have, but not to reminisce over.

Jin only takes him by the arm – not forcefully, but as more than a mere suggestion. "You're sick," he says in an irritatingly mild fashion. "And I don't trust you for a minute to take care of yourself. So I guess I'll baby-sit you if I need to."

"It's just a cold. It's not like I'll drop dead at any moment." Kame twists out of Jin's grasp and strides in the direction of the elevator. Maybe he can just lock Jin out of his apartment.

"No, you just have a terminal case of workaholic," Jin grumbles, his impatience showing. He catches up to Kame easily. "Last time I checked, fainting wasn't a sign of good health."

Kame thinks this conversation is pointless and doesn't respond as they step into the elevator. The doors close, leaving the two of them alone and in silence on the way up.

Despite his efforts, Kame fails to deter Jin from following him all the way into his apartment. He's almost tempted to resort to juvenile means – namely, a temper tantrum in the middle of the hallway (after all, part of him reasons, he's sick and tired and perfectly justified if he makes a spectacle of himself) – but pride reins him in. That, plus an insistent desire for vengeance, makes Kame shelve his outward animosity and play the cordial host. 

"I'm sorry about the mess," he says, waving a hand around the rather un-messy apartment. "Would you like something to drink?" It's better than being treated like an invalid, and more importantly, it's sure to annoy the hell out of Jin.

"You are an asshole," Jin states with a scowl. Kame sincerely hopes that if Jin insists on staying, they will be equally miserable. " _You_ drink something, then lie the fuck down and rest."

"Your bedside manner is atrocious." But Kame does get a glass of water, and he sits at the table with it instead of obediently retreating to somewhere more comfortable. He has no intention of sleeping the day away when he can be at least semi-productive. 

If his head didn't feel so fuzzy he probably would have caught on sooner, but as such it takes a while for his suspicion to manifest while Jin searches his apartment. At first Kame brushes it off as Jin poking around and being harmlessly obnoxious, but then Jin makes a triumphant sound that can't possibly bode well.

Kame sees what he's holding and gets up so fast that the room spins. He hardly notices, too busy glaring. "Don't you _touch_ that."

Jin moves his hands – and the script – behind his back. He looks disgustingly pleased with himself. "No, _you're_ not touching it. This is a work-free weekend, I've already confiscated your planner— Damnit, Kame." He reaches one arm out to steady Kame when he weaves on his feet. Kame can't bring himself to deeply appreciate the gesture, but he wouldn't like falling over either. He's still black and blue from last night when his body became well-acquainted with the floor.

"It's none of your business," he enunciates slowly and carefully, grasping Jin to use as an anchor and trying to make him understand. "I'll take it easy, okay? I'll be good and stay in and drink a lot of liquids. But I can handle this myself."

"I totally don't believe you."

Kame's fingers dig into Jin's arms and if not for his shirt sleeves, there would be rows of little crescents in his flesh from Kame's nails. "It doesn't matter whether or not you believe me, you're still leaving!" 

"I'm not!" Jin doesn't attempt to pry Kame off him, but his anger threads through and he makes small, agitated movements – like he just wants to do whatever it is that needs doing, but doesn't know where to begin.

Kame clamps down on the outrageous urge to shout back, "You are!" and instigate a five-year-old screaming match. This isn't how it's supposed to happen. Kame isn't supposed to be this pathetic. He blames it on the illness and the exhaustion, because any other day he would keep himself together long enough to outlast Jin. They're both unforgivably stubborn at times, but Jin is the one who can just... stop caring. If only he would stop caring now.

One deep breath. Two. Kame steps back and meets Jin eye-to-eye, chin tilted just so in firm acknowledgment: _do what you want, you always have._ Then he makes a strategic retreat (or so he calls it in his head) to the bedroom where he sprawls face-down on top of the covers, tense and waiting until it becomes apparent that he'll be left alone here. He curls onto his side. Perhaps he's trying to prove a point, but he can't be bothered to figure out what that point is when he's fed up and likely running a fever. When his stressed mind wants to wander, he allows it, going blissfully blank.

#

Kame isn't sure what he dreams, but it must have been a nice dream because he wakes up feeling pleasantly disembodied— or no, just disoriented, and not caring. He's warm and that's a welcome change, since some time ago (a few minutes or hours or days) he was feeling a chill. The comforter, pulled snugly to his chin, momentarily covers half his face when he shifts to roll over, bumping someone's legs but failing to be startled by the fact. He knows it's Jin; he can tell by the faint scent of him. Memory makes Kame furrow his brow in annoyance. He's mad at Jin and should probably push him out of the bed, but that would require effort.

"Nng," he says instead, cracking open bleary eyes. Jin practically towers, sitting up against a pile of pillows and concentrating on some game on his cell phone. From this angle Kame is almost pressing his face into Jin's waist and for a fleeting instant it's like they're kids again, familiar and unguarded.

"How are you feeling?" Jin asks while still focusing on his phone.

Kame takes stock. He lifts himself up a little on his elbows, scooting until he's partially upright. Cool air washes over his neck, but he doesn't shiver. Things are a bit woozy, though. "My head hurts," he admits, frowning. "Too much sleep." There's still plenty of light filtering through the blinds of his window, so at least he wasn't out all day.

Jin doesn't say anything at first, just glances at him looking vaguely amused. Then: "Do you want anything?"

Kame bristles and pushes up all the way. His previous irritation is returning with his consciousness. He doesn't get far, however, when Jin snags the back of his shirt. "What are you—" 

Jin gets an arm around him and effectively drags Kame back into the cushion of pillows with a dramatic sigh. "Why are you such an ungrateful bitch?"

Kame's shoulders are stiff as his head falls back into the crook of Jin's arm, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts in his head. There's too many and they're too convoluted, so he settles on replying with, "Because you're a self-absorbed bastard."

"Right," Jin intones dryly. "My concern for your well-being is 100% selfish."

Kame struggles to escape again. "Fuck you, Jin—"

"Okay. Okay, I _get it_." The way he bites out the admission and suddenly releases Kame lends credence to his words. Jin isn't nearly as obtuse as many tend to believe. "But can you just— just not think about that now?"

"Oh, so this is all my fault, is it?"

"Fine!" Jin finally snaps, and points a finger at Kame's chest, then his own. "You're good at pissing me off, I'm good at pissing you off, we're both pissed, and if you weren't sick I'd punch you. Maybe I should anyway. You were a lot more pleasant when you were sleeping."

Kame has to bite his tongue to stop himself from daring Jin to do it. He draws his knees up and buries his face instead, head pounding. "This is why you shouldn't be here," he grits out between his teeth.

He hears Jin sigh loudly. "Look. Listen, I... You piss me off, and maybe I deserve some of it, but I do care. And you know that. So let's just stop."

Kame's laugh is short and dry and sharply brittle. If it was that easy, they wouldn't be like this. He doesn't even have to say anything because Jin shakes his head.

"You're thinking too far ahead again. I'm just saying – for now, I'll be more considerate, you quit your bitching, and maybe we can get along like human beings."

"For a while," Kame mutters, and it's as good as an agreement. It'll work, he knows. It just won't last.

#

Kame has no idea why they have to get on each other's cases sometimes. Maybe because it's so simple, knowing just which nerves to step on, that they do it now without even thinking. It usually requires a conscious effort to avoid that, so he's greatly surprised by how well they manage for the rest of the day. Jin backs off and lets him take care of himself, and Kame doesn't try to do too much. It's far from harmonious, but it's acceptable.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm doing better," he says on the phone to his mother. "I— Yes. He's still here." Kame glances sidelong at Jin, who returns the look innocently.

_"Is he? I'm so relieved to hear it. I was worried about you being alone."_

A smile flits across his face, but he discards it quickly to complain, "Well, I tried to get rid of him but he was too stubborn." All of a sudden Jin is halfway in his lap, grinning while he leans close to speak into the phone.

"Don't worry about a thing, Kamenashi-san. You son is in good hands." Kame puts the heel of his palm to Jin's forehead and pushes him away, but not before they can both hear the laughter through the receiver.

_"That's all right then,"_ she says warmly. _"Yes, that's just fine."_

They make it to dinnertime when the next problem arises.

"Jin," Kame says slowly and steadily while they engage in a stalemate. "I am perfectly capable of making dinner."

Jin's arms are crossed, but his stance is more obstinate than defensive. "Just because you _can_ cook doesn't mean you _should_. You'll spread your germs."

"You're the one who decided to stick around. If you catch anything, it's your own stupid fault. Now move – it's my kitchen, anyway."

Jin doesn't budge. "A sick person shouldn't cook!"

In the end, they compromise and order in.

It's late when the movie they chose to watch comes to its somewhat lackluster conclusion, and Jin has fallen asleep on the couch. The light from the credits scrolling across the screen faintly illuminates his relaxed face. Kame wonders if he should wake him, unsure if Jin had planned to stay the night. He didn't bring anything, but, well, it's Jin.

Kame busies himself for a short while by turning off the TV and placing the DVD back in its case. The room falls dark and mostly silent – he can easily hear the sound of Jin's steady breathing.

"What to do?" he asks quietly under his breath, then gets up and pads over to the closet for an extra blanket.

Kame stands over Jin for a moment, holding the blanket out, like he's waiting for something to happen – for Jin to wake up, blinking his eyes with a sleepy apology that turns into a yawn, moving at his own pace to leave. Nothing happens of course, and Kame steps forward to drape the blanket over him with a half-hearted murmur about his own foolishness. He tucks the ends around Jin's shoulders and this is likely an exercise in futility, the stupid thing will wind up thrown off at some point during the night, but he can't help thinking of waking up in his bed earlier with the covers settled around him and Jin's unmistakable presence by his side.

"I hope," he begins, licking suddenly dry and nervous lips, half-expecting to be heard. "I hope I drive you half as crazy as you drive me." That would almost be fair. Whether it's making Kame the happiest person in the world, or the angriest, or the sorriest, it has always and only ever been Jin who could do such a thing. They experience everything full-scale, including the whole range in-between, but they only remember the extremes. The very best when they were young and bright and stupid together, practically a lifetime ago, and the very worst when they were older and snarling at each other, jaded and pressured by the demands of the business, engaging in cold wars to at least save some face in public.

His fingertips are brushing the side of Jin's face before he's even aware of it, and from there it's a helpless slide down his cheek. Kame's thumb presses right below the fullness of Jin's lip, palm cradling the curve of his jaw.

"You know, back... Back then, I think I— You know. I'm sure you know. You mattered." He's babbling and he can't stop. The words are more air than sound, rushing out in a staggered, jumbled mess. It's unrefined and unpracticed and ugly, but he can't stop. "You still do – matter. But it's... Things change, right? Everything. Us. But not enough. And we're left, stuck, like this. I can't deal with _this_. With you wanting me to look at you whenever, wherever. I can't always. I can't."

Jin shifts ever so slightly beneath his touch and Kame pulls back hastily, his expression shuttering, his voice going mute. Silence; he lets himself breathe again, a measured inhale and exhale that does little to relieve the tightness in his chest. He finally moves away, retreats to the safety of his bedroom and puts a hand to his own cheek, feeling the heat there, but his fever went down hours ago.

Kame dreams of stars that night, of heavenly bodies suspended in an ink-black sky and the quicksilver streak of light that appears and disappears almost too fast to see. Blink and he'll miss it, and he _misses_ it.

#

Getting back to work is a relief and Kame readjusts accordingly. The integration is smooth and he doesn't feel like he's fallen too far behind, so maybe he can admit that the weekend did him some good. It _was_ good around the end – he woke up Sunday morning feeling a lot better, a lot lighter, and Jin didn't try to stop him from making breakfast for them both. He was too occupied with the crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, so Kame gave him a neck rub to cease the complaints (all of Jin's vocal grievances melting into contented quiet). Later they just bummed around and watched TV – game shows, of all things, where they mocked the contestants mercilessly. Siding with Jin instead of against him didn't feel as strange as Kame thought it would, but in retrospect, why should that feel strange at all? They used to be on the same wavelength all the time. Maybe they just needed to get used to each other again. An unceasing process. A balancing game.

_Too easy_ , a part of him warns, and he throws himself into work with a well-rested smile. The staff members welcome him back and politely inquire after his health, but it's merely a routine exchange of pleasantries. Kame doesn't expect more than that. He does his job – and he loves his job – and he also knows how to do it well. 

He's in the middle of a photoshoot when he gets a phone call. His cell vibrates noisily on the table while he's pulling a new shirt on over his head, trying not to mess up his hair. He glances at the ID and dismisses it immediately, turning to the mirror to fix his bangs. The phone keeps on buzzing there, rattling its way across the table surface, so Kame scoops it up with a sigh and answers.

"I'm working," he says flatly, staring at his reflection as he arranges the strands of dark hair around his face.

"I know," Jin replies, and Kame can practically hear his eyes roll. "Like you'd be doing anything else. Don't faint again. And remember to eat."

"Are we back to this?" But he can't be bothered to get annoyed this time – in fact he's grinning slightly. They're just words. Unless... The grin disappears and Kame glances around the dressing room suspiciously. "You're not somewhere in the studio, are you?"

Jin's cackle of laughter bursts over the line. "God, no need to sound so terrified."

"I wouldn't say _terrified_..."

"Well, I'm not, so put your fears to rest. I have a schedule today too – remember you're not the only superstar here. I'll have you know I am totally busy—"

"I thought we grew out of the 'I'm more famous than you' pissing contests."

"That's too bad, because it sounds like your ego could use the workout."

" _My_ ego?" Kame begins with a rising tone of disbelief, then there's a sharp rap on the door and the muffled voice of a staff member asking after him. "I have to go. Did you have a real reason for calling, maybe an emergency you neglected to mention, or was it just to harass me at work?"

"I'll go with Option C: I was bored. And this is not harassing, this is reminding you how unpleasant it is to pass out and be sick. So don't work yourself to an early grave. You fans will cry and your friends will take all your stuff – if that happens, can I have your DVD player?"

"You already own—"

Another knock at the door. This time one of the makeup artists sticks her head in. "Kamenashi?"

"Never mind," he says quickly into the phone. "I'm hanging up. Quit being a slacker and get back to whatever you're supposed to be doing." Kame doesn't wait for a reply before ending the call. 

"Sorry about that," he apologizes, putting the phone back on the table with his other stuff. "I'm ready now."

#

Kame isn't an impulsive person. He knows how to improvise (nobody survives in this business without that skill), but he's better at planning. He thinks things through – too much, perhaps, but effectively nonetheless. He pours over his scripts, perfecting his lines and his understanding of his character until he's comfortable in another person's skin (sometimes almost more comfortable than in his own).

"You're a strange girl," he muses aloud in his apartment, holding the script in one hand but barely glancing at it. He has everything memorized already, words and actions. "...I've said that about you before, haven't I?" The realization is laced with hesitation and unease; Kobayashi still doesn't like the idea of reenacting the past, but he's been thinking about it. He's also been out drinking with his co-workers after work.

Jin sits in one of the chairs as Harumi, but his posture his own, slouching with an elbow propped up on the table. He reads off a page, "You may have, but... Does it matter?"

"Does it matter?" Kame parrots, mostly to himself. He shifts awkwardly and avoids looking directly at Jin. "I guess not."

"Kobayashi-san." Jin says the name with confidence rather than nervousness, capturing Kame's attention. That's not how it's supposed to be, but the attitude suits Jin, if not Harumi. 

Now that he's looking, he can't look away – following the script, his character, this _fiction_ , and damnit, Jin shouldn't offer to help rehearse if he's not going to try at all; he's disrupting everything just by existing (nothing new). 

"Jin," Kame says, allowing some exasperation to roll off in his tone and demeanor.

Jin's gaze flicks up to him, then back down. "Keep going, we're almost to the end of the scene."

"...Harumi," Kame consents, eliminating traces of his grudge as Kobayashi tries out the name for the first time. He's supposed to lean in and place a tentative kiss on Harumi's mouth. Kame doesn't plan on touching his lips to Jin's, but he does so anyway, brushing them lightly like the uncertain person he's meant to play.

He starts to pull back but Jin has to pick this moment to act the way he's supposed to, eyes closed and face tilted up just so, and Kame freezes for real. He can't make himself move. The space between them doesn't increase or decrease, and something in him is ordering, _play your part!_ while something else answers back, _what the hell **is** my part?_ Performance escapes him, and then all Jin does is look at him with no question, no conceit, only waiting with a little bit of, 'so now what?' in his eyes.

On pure impulse (so stupid, so undignified, so unlike him) Kame lowers his head and kisses Jin again, fast but firm, over in an instant. In that brief second, nothing matters. He steps away and reality starts to catch up with him in a terrifying, chest-tightening realization when he hears Jin say unconvincingly, "Is that the best you can do, Kame?"

And then Jin's hands are locked around his wrists, pulling, meeting, and sealing their mouths together.


	3. Act 3

It's not a singular occurrence. They steal kisses from each other whenever the mood strikes and they're alone – the instances are few and hurried. Jin isn't sure how he feels about that, or about this whole thing. He usually doesn't over-think stuff the way Kame does.

But at the moment they're filming an episode of Cartoon KAT-TUN and he's bored. Kame is chattering on and on in response to one of their guest's survey questions (something obscure that only Kame would find interesting), so Jin tunes the words out and feigns attention, mostly by staring at Kame's mouth. He was kissing that mouth just a short while ago in the elevator, tasting lip gloss (sort of like a girl's) and breathing in a blend of hairspray and cologne (less like a girl's). Locking lips with his long-time male friend doesn't feel as weird as it probably should.

Jin would be lying if he said he's never, ever thought about kissing Kame before, but it's true that until recently he hadn't pondered it all that much. As a teenage boy working regularly and closely alongside other teenage boys, posing and performing intimately with other teenage boys, the occasional _thought_ was bound to pop up somewhere. Back then it was a hormonal thing, a random thing, a temporary thing – and maybe it still is, but _Kame_ isn't temporary to Jin at all. He's changing, but ever-present. Annoyingly so. Jin knows that Kame thinks (assumes, rather, because he's an ass like that) that it will all end at any moment, and Jin used to be so distracted and irritated and stifled that maybe he believed that for a while, too. Back then it made things a little bit easier and a little bit worse.

Kame has finally shut up and Jin tears his gaze away, but not before he catches Kame's own pointed look. Jin covers his mouth to hide a small grin, and then speaks up for the sake of speaking up, probably only vaguely on topic, but it doesn't matter because it means Kame will keep looking at him. He knows with a shiver of anticipation that he's going to want to kiss Kame again later.

'Later' happens in the elevator again, with Jin leaning back against the wall and his fingers hooked through Kame's belt loops, not that Kame needs to be held in place. Kame's hands are quite firmly fisted in Jin's shirt, twisting the fabric, but his head is angled just right to press their lips together – not too hard or fast, not soft or slow. Careful, considering, like—

"Stop that," Jin chastises, scratching lightly at the denim of Kame's jeans, smoothing over his hips, and Kame shifts so they're slightly apart.

"What?" He wears a mild frown, which deepens when all Jin does is chase after his mouth, getting in a curling lick before Kame stubbornly pulls back. " _What?_ " he repeats.

Jin's hands fall away from Kame's body, only to move up and grab roughly at his face. Kame grips Jin's wrists, eyes flashing, a rebuke about to fly—

"This isn't a drama," Jin states right before slanting his mouth down over Kame's. It's messy and challenging, and Kame protests at first, and then he's countering – not struggling, and not being so damn careful. He bites at Jin's lip and _growls_ , all teeth and tongue and deeply satisfying.

But Jin is greedy; he always wants more.

#

They've barely stumbled into Kame's apartment before they're on each other. Jin pushes Kame up against the wall like he's wanted to do most of the night, watching the lights of the club play across his figure and make colored patterns on his white shirt. Jin's fingers brush over smooth skin where the fabric rides up a little. Kame tastes like the girly drinks he's had one too many of tonight – he doesn't even like them, but he'll drink them anyway, sometimes, smiling and chatting with a glass in hand like the socialite he's built himself to be. Jin had looked away at first. He looked to girls instead; soft, curvy girls who were generous with their attention and appreciation, who danced with him and had a certain gleam in their eyes that Jin wasn't at all opposed to.

But then he kissed one of those pretty girls, and his thoughts returned to Kame.

Kame with his sharp angles and lean muscles under Jin's hands. Kame with that fruity alcohol flavor Jin licks from his mouth. Kame who Jin wants.

It's a terrible idea, Jin knows, a bad career move and a bad friendship move (or whatever this is between them, continually lost and found and changed), but he can't help wanting. He wants—

"Jin. _Jin._ " Kame pushes and pulls. He has a hand over the back of Jin's neck, the other braced against his chest, body language confused. His eyes are dark-hooded and his lips are kiss-bruised.

" _Kazuya_ ," Jin breathes next to Kame's ear.

Kame goes tense and pushes hurriedly. "Jin, what are we— What is this?"

"What?" Jin echoes back disbelievingly. "Why bother asking that _now_?"

"It's a little important, don't you think?" Kame returns, sounding strained.

"I think you think too much." Jin lowers his face to mouth at Kame's neck, who shivers at the swipe of tongue and scrape of teeth. Kame buries his fingers in Jin's hair and closes his fist in a tight grip, borderline painful.

"Jin, answer me." The words fall heavily into the air while Kame draws in a staggered breath, chest rising and falling unsteadily. His body feels warm beneath layers of clothing, a center of heat that Jin wants to curl around.

"Let me be," Jin says, low and close to Kame's skin, tongue passing over a fluttering pulse. "Just let me be." _Here, like this, with..._ He slides his hands up, bunching Kame's shirt as they travel across flat stomach and torso, meeting the points of his nipples. Jin rubs his thumbs in small circles around them, then gets his thigh in between Kame's legs and that really makes him squirm.

" _Jin._ " The name is more of a husky pant now as Kame abandons, little by little, whatever strict conclusions he's come up with in his head. Maybe he understands implicitly what Jin is saying. How they are.

"Talk to me, Kazuya," Jin encourages in an almost-purr and reaches down to thumb open the button on Kame's jeans. "What do you want?"

Kame takes Jin's face in his hands, kisses him fierce and urgent and hot, murmuring against his mouth, "Touch me, touch me, you bastard. Hurry up and—" He lets out a moan when Jin obeys, wrapping his fingers around Kame's hardness and stroking. Kame slouches against the wall, head falling back.

"That's it. Like that. Yes." Jin is the one speaking softly, admiring the half-lidded eyes, parted lips, and exposed throat. There are countless times when Kame has appeared wanton in front of the camera, but Jin usually finds those instances lacking. They're too refined, too practiced. Not like now, with Kame surrendering to pleasure and gradually coming undone, rocking into Jin's fist. It has to be either the greatest or worst performance of his life.

Jin holds his palm to Kame's face, tracing fingers over sharp cheekbone and brushing the vulnerable corner of his mouth. Then Kame turns slightly to bite the tip of Jin's index finger with his teeth, wetting the pad with his tongue, his eyes glittering and dark. He shudders and gasps as Jin's other hand speeds up along his cock, building and reaching— Until his entire body coils and uncoils with release. The sight of him makes Jin ache and catch his breath.

Kame slides a bit down the wall but stays upright, clutching onto Jin who drops kisses and meaningless little words against his brow. At the same time Jin hastens to unfasten his own pants, arousal straining. Fingers circle his wrist, stopping him with just that touch, and trail downwards.

"Let me," Kame whispers with a voice like smoke, like a cigarette, like a burn down Jin's throat.

#

It's not always easy. Kame can be described in many ways, but 'easy' has never been one of them. He's a chameleon; always changing, always being whatever he needs to be, and part of Jin still resents that. There are some days when Jin hates dealing with Kame.

Jin always wants Kame, though, even when he's simultaneously fed up with him (maybe because he's fed up with him):

_"Jin!" Kame hisses in protest as he's half-dragged into a stall in the restroom. "We're at work!"_

_"So?" Jin carelessly runs his hands down Kame's sides and up under his shirt, needing to touch bare skin for a little while. "We work in a business full of teenage boys. Think of how many of them have jerked off in these stalls."_

_"That's disgusting, don't tell me—" He grabs Jin's hands before they get into his pants, for all the good that does. There's no room to spare with two adult men in the stall, so it's easy for Jin to press his body flush against Kame's._

_"I didn't mean to **think** -think, just... You know..." Jin rolls his hips, always preferring actions over words, and everything about this is bad; the way Kame is mad as hell but surely turned on, the way Jin is the same, and the guilty little thrill he gets at being able to do this. It's selfish and more than a bit skewed, but Kame is dangerously irresistible, glaring at Jin while twisting and fighting and relenting, finally, to the pace and pressure._

_Their gazes remain locked as Kame's hands lower between their bodies, and he informs with vicious little pants: "If we're caught, I am never forgiving you."_

There are also times when Jin pushes too much or Kame gets in a particularly implacable mood:

_"I'm not a conquest of yours, Jin."_

_"Of course you're not—"_

_"So then what are you doing? Fixing me? You, of all people, should know better."_

_"I'm not saying that! I'm not trying to—"_

_"Leave me alone, Jin. Just... go away."_

#

Others will say in admiring, curious, and speculative tones that Jin is patient with Kame. They never elaborate, never ask the question that's always hovering in the air – that's for the tabloids to insinuate, for the fans to scream deliriously: _Akame! Akame!_ And they're wrong, anyway. Jin isn't a patient individual, and Kame isn't an exception in that regard. If Jin was patient, he thinks maybe all of this would be different. Maybe better, maybe worse.

He's not like Kame, who _is_ patient, or strives to be. But maybe Kame is influencing him a little, bleeding into him, because Jin finds himself waiting and expecting.

'Inevitability' he writes on a blank sheet of paper, then stares at it like it's a foreign word. Next to it he scrawls, in English, 'fate'. He underlines it. He draws a box around it. He shades the box in, layer upon layer, and half-listens to this week's episode of _Tokyo Shinju_ on TV. Kame's voice filters through and Jin thinks of kisses, of reincarnation, of promises. He flips his pencil around and sets the blunt end to the paper. Erase, erase, erase.

When Kame shows up on his doorstep later, Jin is startled, but not surprised.

"Hey," Kame greets, forced-casual. It's the end of another long day for him and he's showing some wear at the edges, but still holding up as he crosses the threshold. Jin merely steps back for half a moment and takes in the sight of Kame – his hair showing signs of mistreatment from a blustery wind, narrow shoulders shrugging out of his coat, and the way his gaze travels but briefly over his surroundings. No doubt they're thinking the same thing: that it's been a while since Kame has been to Jin's place. Usually it's Jin who takes it upon himself to invade Kame's apartment, his life.

Kame cants his head towards the TV where the chorus of _Timeless_ can be heard playing at the end of the episode. "You watch the drama?"

"Yeah. Well." Jin gives a jerky, abrupt shrug, suddenly uncomfortable. It's not the series, it's the song. The lyrics he wrote. They're not that great – they're trite and shallow and drippy with stock melodrama. But the single has been selling well, even without his real name attached to it. He explains, " _Tokyo Shinju_ is the biggest hit of the season." Someone else might have added a "congratulations", but Jin is only making a statement.

A small smile tugs on Kame's mouth and he matches Jin's practicality. "The competition hasn't been that tough." 

The credits finally come to an end and Jin moves to turn off the TV, but he halts midway, unsure, and gestures with the remote. "Do you want to...?" Only Kame could make him feel so out of his element in his own home, just by showing up. _Fuck it,_ Jin decides, hitting the power button with one hand and grabbing Kame with the other.

Kame's muffled laugh interrupts the impulsive kiss. "Sure," he says sarcastically, but makes a gentle brush against Jin's lips. "Go ahead and maul me, your guest, when I politely visit you."

"What, we're strangers now?" Jin loops his arms comfortably around Kame, hands resting over the small of his back.

"Strangers," Kame repeats as if tasting the word. One of his arms winds around Jin's neck and he leans close, gaze downcast. If a photographer captured this image the pose would appear flirtatious, like any other type of fanservice, but the steady warmth of Kame's breath on Jin's skin is thoughtful and searching.

"No," he says at last, reaching some conclusion and sharing it with a deliberate kiss. Low words are spoken intimately into Jin's mouth: " _I know you._ "

And Kame is familiar to him; his presence, the timbre of his voice, his moods and attitudes and feelings. They're all there in full view once Jin bothers to look. The admiration and affection when they were children, and also the exasperation. The anger and uncertainty and fear – those Jin looked away from sometimes (or a lot of times). 

Kame's body, too, is something Jin has always known well. The skinny, awkward frame of adolescence, the squinting eyes and the little kid smile. The still-thin shoulders now being pressed into the mattress, pale skin on dark navy sheets, the finely-toned arms that reach and pull Jin down. The mouth that can be hard and soft, sharp and generous. Jin kisses the throat that stubbornly remains silent, at least until Jin's hands and tongue teasing sensitive areas coax out small sounds of pleasure. 

They don't get to do this often with the luxury of a bed and a whole night of privacy, the mood so unlike their stolen, hasty moments during the daytime. It isn't a difference of slow and fast, it's just— _more_. More of Kame to see and taste and feel, kissing without delicacy or grace. Kame's legs around Jin, squeezing, his moans and the flexible arch of his body as they fuck, neither in control. Jin touches Kame greedily, grasping his hips and hitching them higher, thrusting in deeper. They're both panting and flushed; Jin can feel it in a dizzying, pulsing rush just beneath his skin and see it mirrored, spread out on Kame, along with the rise and fall of his chest.

Jin doesn't miss the movement of Kame slipping a hand down to fist his cock, his breathy noises becoming heavier and urgent. Part of Jin wants to slow down – _slower, steadier, more_ – but Kame is completely lost in sensation, heels pressing into Jin's back as he rocks up, demanding and desperate.

_This_ , Jin thinks and knows. _This—_ He gives to Kame so readily, and feels the body under his, against his, shudder and clench around him.

"Jin, Jin, fuck—" Kame moans raggedly when he comes. Jin loves watching, seeing the way his lips part and move around words that become increasingly incoherent, how he grasps at Jin wherever he can hold, fingers digging relentlessly into flesh. Jin leans in to mouth and bite at Kame's neck, rough with his teeth when his orgasm takes him.

He realizes every time:

With Kame draped loose-limbed beside him, hair damp and smelling of Jin's shampoo, borrowing Jin's clothes, and his drowsy voice contributing to conversations that wander like winding roads. Topics are touch-and-go: "Ran-chan is sick, so I'm going to stop by my parents' house tomorrow after work. Sure, you can come with – if you're not busy, I mean. They said it wasn't anything serious, but..." "God, you still own this t-shirt? It's so ratty. Fine, it's comfortable. Oh, shut up." "I'm not telling you how the drama ends, quit pestering me. You can watch it yourself next week."

Jin's hand finds Kame's arm, trailing down the vulnerable inside of his wrist to his palm and following one of the creases embedded there (life line of heart line or whatever, he can't tell them apart). Kame's hand twitches and he glances sideways at Jin, questioning with his clear brown eyes and Jin looks. Really looks.

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Jin realizes how this – how _Kame_ is beautiful.

#

Kame doesn't usually have time to feel significantly relieved once a drama is over because there's always some other big project on the horizon, another commitment waiting in line. This is no exception. He attends the cast party which is being held during the airing of the finale, and there's a widescreen TV showing the episode but Kame doesn't pay much attention to it. It's weird to watch himself onscreen as a leisure activity; he's always looking for flaws and judging his performance, making note of what to do better or try differently. With filming over it's not like he can do anything about it.

Still, he knows exactly when the episode concludes because he receives a text message from Jin saying, _I knew that was going to happen!_

Kame smiles and puts aside his drink to type back, _Liar, you begged me to spoil the ending._

Three more messages from Jin follow in rapid succession:

> _Because you're a cocktease and I hate you._
> 
> _Also, congratulations. Jerk._
> 
> _Stop by later?_

Kame glances around at the people milling about. He should stay a while longer to make nice with certain individuals since the drama has really strengthened his social network. This entire event, a bit too fancy to be just a celebration bash, is being held mainly to foster connections. Kame has always been dedicated to making those connections as an integral part of the business. He succinctly sends back, _Give me an hour._

Even after pocketing his phone, Kame isn't surprised to receive a sullen reply. He skims the message when he has a moment – _But the drama's over and I'm bored!_ – and doesn't bother replying to it, nor to all the others that follow:

> _Stop working, you workaholic._
> 
> _You love work more than you love me. :(_
> 
> _Kazu-chaaan~_

And so on.

It isn't until Kame has left the party (a little later than intended – tipsier, too – but more importantly: satisfied) and is sitting in the cab on his way to Jin's neighborhood that he replies with, _On my way._

Then, with a curling little grin, he types furiously message after message to spam Jin's inbox in revenge.

> _You are such a child. Whine, whine, whine._
> 
> _This is why you can't have nice things._
> 
> _That picture you sent, was that what I thought it was?!_

When he finally arrives at the apartment, tired but pleased, Jin just slings an arm around his shoulders and pretends to grumble, "That took you forever."

"What can I say? I am a busy man." Kame turns his face to nuzzle close to Jin's neck, chin bumping against a sensitive collarbone that sends a slight shiver across freshly-washed skin. Jin smells clean and wonderful and perfect to curl up with right now. Kame sags a little, leaning his weight on him.

Jin's finger pokes Kame in the side, but he doesn't straighten up. "You're coming home late _and_ you're drunk? Tsk."

"I'm not drunk," he clarifies. It was just a little champagne, but Kame will silently admit that everything feels kind of soft and warm at the moment, kind of nice. "And since when did you become my nagging wife?"

He hears Jin snort and then he's pushed lightly, half-falling and half-stumbling into an inelegant heap lengthwise on the couch. Kame has a second to get his bearings and then Jin's weight is covering him like a languid blanket, cheek pillowed on his chest.

"You're heavy," Kame automatically complains and gets a mild thump on the arm in reproach. He considers rolling Jin onto the floor, but that plan seems like too much effort. It's not the most comfortable of positions, but it isn't unbearable yet. Easier to lie back and let lethargy seep into his limbs, his hands moving of their own accord to sink into Jin's tousled hair and stroke his fingers through and through.

The TV is on, but muted. Kame watches the images play across the screen, distantly registering what appears to be a movie he's seen maybe once before, years ago. He's more acutely aware of Jin; his warm sprawl, his breathing, the contented little hum he makes when Kame massages his scalp.

" _Worth it?_ " Jin murmurs, barely audible, and Kame stills, unsure if he's misinterpreting or imagining the question mark after those two words. Jin shifts, props his chin on Kame's sternum – and that's pretty uncomfortable, so Kame pushes until Jin sighs and backs off, sitting up with his hands resting on Kame's thighs.

Kame rubs his hands over his face, pushes his bangs away from his eyes, and generally stalls until he can gaze upon Jin and find him... almost smiling, the sheepish little smile that will sneak up on him as if no one else is looking.

And damn if Kame doesn't find himself smiling back.

#

"This is _insane_ and _dumb_ and it's _the middle of winter_ ," Kame bites out once they leave the cozy heat of the car and are greeted by frigid night air. He hunches into his coat with his arms stiff at his sides, hands balled into fists inside his pockets.

"Shut up, it was your brilliant idea in the first place." Jin, the stubborn bastard, starts walking, and Kame sullenly follows. He tells himself, _at least it isn't snowing,_ and a few seconds later he wonders, _where are we going? It doesn't even matter!_

"Jin—" He ends up walking straight into him when Jin suddenly stops.

"So," Jin says nonchalantly, and leaves it at that.

Kame presses up against his back and winds his arms around, slipping his hands into Jin's pockets trying to find more warmth. The backs of Jin's hands are equally cold and Kame rubs over them. "So," he echoes, nosing close to Jin's neck.

"Umm."

Kame rolls his eyes – the action goes unseen but the sentiment is conveyed loud and clear in his tone. "You've never listened to me before, why did you have to start now?"

"Technically, this means I listened to you from the very beginning."

" _Technically_ , it should be summer."

"Christ, quit nitpicking and come here." Jin pulls Kame's hands out and turns within the circle of his arms so they're facing each other. "I guess... Here we are."

Here, in the cold, at night, and neither of their schedules are benevolent to the idea of midnight trips into the country. Kame looks around and sees the dark outline of forest in the distance, the hills, and the vague shape of their car by the side of the road. Above is the sky lightly dusted with trailing clouds, and behind those, sometimes dim and sometimes glittering, are the stars. Beautiful.

But he's still freezing.

"This doesn't work," he boldly states, doing his best to look Jin in the eye with all the shadows between them. "In fact, this sucks. I, for one, am not going to accept this."

Before Jin can say anything, Kame holds his hand up and curls his fingers except for the forefinger and thumb, cocking his wrist for a makeshift gun. He rests the tip against Jin's chest, which quivers with quiet laughter.

"Okay," Jin says and returns the gesture, fingertip pressing over Kame's heart. "Fuck it all, let's try again."

Kame grins wide enough for Jin to see.

_"Bang."_

Five hundred years in the span of a breath.

"Great. Now let's head back before we freeze and die for real."


End file.
